


Pirate Smile

by CoconutRum



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Non-Consent, Edgeplay, Flogging, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Humiliation, Rope Bondage, Rough Body Play, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoconutRum/pseuds/CoconutRum
Summary: Jack teaches Will a lesson in discipline, with the whole crew watching. Sexual tension and public humiliation ensue. Jack is well versed in some aspects of BDSM, and shows off some of his abilities, at William's expense.
Relationships: Jack Sparrow/Will Turner
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	1. A Lesson in Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: This comes across as an incredibly DARK fic. Please read through to the end before analyzing too deeply.  
> Elements include BDSM, consensual-nonconsent (non-conensual VIBES though) Public displays of violence/bodily harm/emotional and physical humiliation.
> 
> As with any BDSM practices, do not take these to be real. They are merely fiction, and should not be done without proper/explicit CONSENT, practice and safety precautions. Never drink while practicing or performing BDSM craft on yourself or others.

Will jolted awake to the sound of heavy boots approaching. With no concept of time given the lack of windows, he shielded his eyes as the door was kicked in, sunlight blinding him. 

Rough hands hauled him from his bed, and wrenched an arm behind his back as a dagger bit at his throat. He kicked out, missing his target as his eyes were still adjusting.  
His heart was racing and breath was coming in short gasps as he attempted to throw off his assailant; but to no avail. A sharp, menacing pain pricked below his jaw, and his arm was bent further upwards behind him, threatening dislocation.

His body was arched back, the knife pressed firmly at his neck, he stilled.

He heard his own heartbeat, the waves above deck, and breathing. Haggard breathing, warm against his ear. It smelled of smoke, something metallic, and….rum?

Will tried to take in as many details as possible. He heard the clink of beads, felt the grip of rings on his wrist, and that unmistakable musk that he only associated with one man. 

“Jack…” He whispered.

The man leaned in, against Will’s cheek,  
“Best hold still, boy,” the stench of his breath permeated Will’s nostrils. “Wouldn’t want me hand to…slip…” Turner winced and tried to break Jack’s grip, but was met with the pierce of metal against his skin.  
“Ah, ah, ah,” Jack drawled, “can’t have you squirming away so fast, dear William.” He blew softly into Will’s ear.  
“And you know how much I love to see you….squirm.” 

At those last words, Jack twisted a burn into the flesh of the blacksmith’s wrist, licking a stripe across Will’s cheek, tasting his sweat. 

Will shuddered in disgust.  
“Jack…”

Will heard a soft, low, dangerous growl before the pirate pressed his hand hard into the small of Will’s back, pushing him forward; knuckles digging into his spine while maintaining their vice grip. 

“Now….move.” The tone of Jack’s voice raised the hair on the back of Will’s neck as he stepped forward into the corridor. 

The blacksmith staggered up the steps, awkwardly, as Jack held firm and directed him to a crossbeam of the ship’s center mast. As they approached, Will saw a few crew members standing around the structure. 

Mr. Gibbs approached, holding a length of rope. Jack nodded to him; and Gibbs took Will’s wrists, binding them to the beam. One to the right, and one to the left, leaving his arms spread like wings, against weathered, unforgiving steel. He was left standing at an awkward angle, slightly hunched forward.

Turner laughed nervously, trying to ignore his hackles raising in alarm, priming him to fight. A spring loaded deep in his psyche, threatening to fire and induce true panic.

“Jack, “ Will said for what he felt was the umpteenth time, “What the bloody hell is go…”

*Thwack!* - the back of Sparrow’s hand collided hard with the Will’s face.  
“I didn’t give you permission to speak, lad,” Jack purred, assessing Turner’s restraints, a sneer playing at his lips.

Will’s heart was in his mouth. This was some sort of sick joke. Jack, though not slurring his words, had definitely had a drink or two before this began.  
He weighed his options: Fight, or be subdued. Let the game play out, and perhaps be granted mercy. 

Sparrow walked a semi-circle around the blacksmith, dagger still in hand as he watched the young man before him reeling at the puzzle of circumstances he found himself in.  
“Such a salty pup I’ve caught in my trap,” Jack thought, pressing his nose to Will’s neck, inhaling deeply. The boy smelled of salt, spice and a hint of leather. The pirate traced a finger down the tendons of Will’s hand, longingly. Those calloused hands; so practiced and agile. So...skilled. 

He turned to face the crew, who stood in a horse shoe shape surrounding Turner. Some of them looked uncomfortable and hesitant to be there. Others, like Gibbs, had a manic and thirsty look about them.

“Gents, “ Jack began “What you see before you is a prime example of what happens when you defy your Captain’s orders.” He paced, almost lazily before them. Their eyes glazed with a mixture of fear, curiosity, and lust.

Turner shifted against the beam, unable to find a position resembling comfort, as he frantically tried to turn and see what Jack was doing. He knew it was pointless, but he kept pulling at his ropes, hoping something, -- anything -- would loosen, just a bit to wriggle a hand free. The rocking of the ship sent him pitching chest first into the joist, his sternum absorbing the shock. He sagged a bit before resuming his efforts, catching his breath. He felt as though he was on the verge of hyperventilating, his brain racing at potential escapes, with Jack’s voice edging into his consciousness. 

Behind him, Jack began the prelude to what was becoming something of a show. Or, as Will felt, a sacrifice.

“Let this be a lesson to the lot of you,” Jack extended his arm, the dagger glinting in his hand as he pointed it in turn, to each of his men. He then turned to Gibbs, who promptly handed him something Will could not quite see, given the strained angle from which he was tethered. He felt his shoulder muscles picking up the strain under his weight, the blood in his arms pooling towards his chest, leaving his hands cold. 

“A lesson... in discipline….” Jack snarled.

It all happened faster than he could process.

Jack tore at the tail of Will’s shirt, and lifted it up and over Turner’s head from the back so that his throat was now semi-choked if he leaned backward or pulled his shoulder blades together. His skin was laid bare; exposed, covered in a sheen of sweat. The beam was getting hotter as the Caribbean sun beat down; the seconds ticking by.

Will tried to draw a deep breath, but found even that difficult, as his shirt now forced him into a hunched position. 

“In a bit of a predicament there, lad?” Jack clapped a hand on Will’s shoulder, making him jump with a start. 

“Looks like if you want to breathe, ye also got to kiss that metal. And I reckon its getting a touch scorching, eh?” He pressed Will downward, forcing his face dangerously close to the beam to where Turner felt the heat threaten to sear his jaw. 

“Why don’t you stand up, Turner? Proud as we all know you are….” Jack yanked at the nape of Will’s neck, pulling him into an arch, baring his throat. Will felt the shirt pressing into his airway, and tried to stem his breathing. 

The crew stood stock still. Jack had gone mad. Worse than the locker. 

“This could have been easier, lad. I’d love to call the lesson learned, but need to hear a few words from ye first.” He held Will close, watching him struggle. “Can ye do that for me….love?” 

Will, desperate for any sort of resolve gave a pathetic gasp. “Jack, I don’t know what the hell you’re….”

Jack plunged him forward, nearly pressing him to the heated steel, again, then took the dagger from his belt. Will was panting, his shoulders wincing as the micro tears in his muscles multiplied. 

“The whelp has yet to learn the meaning of respect, lads. Now, watch closely,” Sparrow said as he hacked away at Will’s shirt with the blade, cutting dangerously close to his flesh, eventually dropping the shirt to the ground, 

Turner gulped down salty air, trying to keep his balance as the ship swayed. But no sooner had his brain been granted sweet oxygen, he heard a sound that stopped his heart, cold. 

Jack stood, just barely in his peripheral vision, dangling a flogger from his right hand, a simpering grin on his face as he began to unfurl the tails in a circular motion, like a wheel, inching closer to Will’s hide.

The blacksmith first felt the light kiss of whirling air currents against his shoulder blade. The current grew in strength and prickled on his skin as the tapered ends made contact. Just a threat of pain; enough to make him reflexively shy away from it. Every muscle on edge, instinct taking over for rational thought. 

Jack drew closer, painting lines from the small of Will’s back, up over onto his chest. The blacksmith shivered as he felt leather dip below his navel, just above the base of his cock -- teasingly -- then traveling up the groove of his hip.

“Such a pretty little arse,” Sparrow leered as he began to swing the flogger more steadily now. The wheel pattern turned into a criss-crossed figure eight weave, the current growing stronger. Will clenched his cheeks together, making Jack chuckle.  
“If you insist, love.”

*SNAP!* the tail-hides pelted across Will’s ass, making him yelp, and go up on tip toe. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, as he let himself down. Breathing through his nostrils, he tried to focus, to not let the adrenaline eat at him. Taking steady breaths, he found a rhythm, shut his eyes and…

“*THWIP!* Another lash across his ass, this time making his hips rock up and into the beam. (Which Jack somehow managed to get at ‘just’ the right height!) Will’s cock rubbed against the steel for a flash of a second before he hurriedly curled into himself, not letting it rest there long enough to feel much of anything besides pure adrenaline. His blood alternated between frigid, and molten, creating a buzzing sensation under his skin as a film of sweat coated his body.

“Didn’t expect *that* to go so well,* Jack mused, planning his next point of impact. Will had barely recovered when he felt a new stripe sear itself across his right shoulder blade, down to his left hip. At first, it only stung, and the timing startled him. Sparrow reversed his strike, hitting the opposite shoulder; Will’s brain, staggering.  
The blows kept coming in X shapes across his back. His skin was a glowing pink and he felt heat rising from the blows; the salt water mist making his flesh burn anew as it clung to the forming wounds.

Will lost count of how many strikes he had endured; the current blows falling in succession, threatening to split him open. He waited to go numb; black out; for the humiliation to end. But Sparrow was just getting started. 

Jack paused in his lashing, to assess his work. He ran a hand across Will’s skin; the boy impulsively pulled away. Flesh was split in some places, like glass, exposed to heat. Cracks, red lines radiating from pin pricks of crimson; it even looked tattered in some places. Jack grinned to himself, pleased. He put his palm to a spot that had clearly absorbed a lot of the impact, and pressed down mercilessly; grinding sweat and salt into the wound. 

Will jolted as though he had been branded. His arms heavy with exhaustion, his veins pulsing, full of lead. Somewhere in the crevices of his brain, he knew this had to end.  
“Anything to say yet, lad?” Jack teased, snagging a flask from Gibbs, uncorking it and taking a swig. 

“Jack, I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I swear, when you unt…...AAAHHHRGH!!!!!”

Will’s vision went stark white as Sparrow poured out the rest of Gibbs’ flask over Will’s scorching flesh.

“You know I hate to waste good rum, William,” He said matter of factly, watching the drink flow down Turner’s hide; nearly able to hear the sting... like the hiss of a snake. He reached for the blacksmith’s shirt, tearing away a neat scrap, measuring it out. 

“Guess you’ll have to pay for that little spill, somehow. But that mouth of yours….won’t do at all...” He reached over Will’s face, spreading the fabric in his mouth, between his teeth. Turner’s mind was racing. Between the feeling of singed flesh, his nerve ending shorting out, the fatigue of his body, and the goddamn mind-fuck Sparrow was putting him through, he could hardly see straight. He tried to focus on breathing; on what functions he maintained.

The crew had become a collective blur. Their faces no longer discernible as sweat swam in Turner’s eyes. He stood, panting, his breaths staggered. His body and mind could make no sense of Sparrow’s actions, nor where they were going next. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack uncurling a coil of rope. 

Will stood stark still as the pirate lord approached; his gold teeth gleaming in his cheshire grin.

“Now lad, clearly your mouth is of no use to me,” Jack wound the rope around one finger, letting it slither through the grip of his other hand,

“But there is oh so much more of your body left to….inspect...”


	2. A Lesson in Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will learns how much he can take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This comes across as an incredibly DARK fic. Please read through to the end before analyzing too deeply.  
> Elements include BDSM, consensual-nonconsent (non-conensual VIBES though) Public displays of violence/bodily harm/emotional and physical humiliation.
> 
> As with any BDSM practices, do not take these to be real. They are merely fiction, and should not be done without proper/explicit CONSENT, practice and safety precautions. Never drink while practicing or performing BDSM craft on yourself or others.

Will knew that look. Jack’s ‘Pirate Smile,’ reserved for times when a dark, sinister, and twisted idea was alight in Sparrow’s mind. A thought that often involved what he referred to as ‘a bit of play.’ 

Turner braced himself as Jack looped a large length of rope over his neck. Not a slip-knot; more like a leash with a secured stop point to prevent self tightening. From the base of that knot, a single strand was left hanging down to the deck floor, dangling across the front of his torso and coiling around itself in a heap. Jack tied a carefully placed knot at the bottom of Will’s sternum, and continued to ‘playfully’ slide the rest of the rope length between the blacksmith’s legs, on either side of his dick.

Will began to grasp where this was going and made to protest, but found himself frustratingly muffled by his make-shift gag. Sparrow simply laughed at his exacerbation, and stooped down, between Will’s legs, Jack’s own back to the the mast. A wicked smirk playing at his lips as he slowly began to palm Turner through his pants. 

The blacksmith steadied his breathing, trying to ignore Jack’s little ‘game,’ knowing it was useless. Still, he didn’t want Jack to win so easily. 

Although the angle was a bit awkward, Will tried to swiftly thrust his leg towards Jack, but the pirate saw it coming. As he made contact, Jack reached into Will’s trousers, taking *firm* hold of his cock. Coal rimmed eyes stared up at him, livid.

“THAT’S not very nice….” Jack gave a tug to emphasize his point, and would have sent the blacksmith to his knees, had he not been secured to the beam. 

Turner forgot how to breathe.

Jack’s tugging fell into a rhythm, and slowly gave way to aggressive strokes. The crew, as if breaking a barrier of consciousness, jeered and clapped in encouragement. Will’s face went white, then his cheeks burned pink as he felt heat rising in his face. His psyche fought to take him away, to stave the pleasure building in his core, to extinguish what his body was screaming for. But it betrayed him completely, and he had no choice but to give in to the torment as he grew hard in Jack’s hand. 

Sparrow looked up at him, a maniacal glint in his eye.  
“See William, I promise this’ll make things easier as we go along. Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?” As if Will could answer.

He swayed in his bonds, giving into the only means of ‘relief’ he had been granted thus far. His hips rocked in Jack’s grip, and he didn’t even bother stifling a moan through the dank gag chaffing his lips.

“Oh, dear William….” Jack’s voice broke through the haze of need, “If you thought it would be that easy…there’s much more to this lesson, love.”

As he rocked, his dick growing impressively harder, he felt Jack shift, removing his hand. Looking down, he saw Jack toying with another length of rope. 

The pirate chuckled to himself, ‘’This will be...interesting.’’ Will’s stomach flipped at the pirate’s tone of voice, and then nearly jumped through his mouth as he felt Jack tying 2 new loops: one around Will’s balls, and one around the base of Will’s dick. Sparrow passed the length of rope between Turner’s legs from front to back. Fighting to remain still (god knew what Jack was up to) he saw Sparrow tie a thick knot in the middle of what was left of the rope strand, before hiking it between Will’s ass cheeks; the knot landed precisely against his puckered hole. 

Will’s skin was on fire. His breath shallow, every natural instinct *screaming* at him to flee; to expel these objects and restrictions from his body. 

The pirate continued. The proper loops and knots in place, he finished his ‘art’ by slipping the end of the strand perpendicularly through the one around the back of Will’s neck, securing it rather tightly. He finished his tie with a bit of a flourish, as though he had just completed a magic trick, and stood beside Will to admire his handiwork. 

Turner’s mind was fogged. The exhaustion in his arms was too much.  
He bent forward slightly to alleviate the pressure and...

“Ungh!!” Will cried out, surprising himself, freezing in place.

As he had bent downward, the knot between his cheeks bit and dug into his asshole, his skin breaking out in goose-bumps. Strangely, and to further his humiliation, Will felt his body annihilate his dignity completely, as he felt himself growing even *harder* at the experience. Tears pricked his eyes.

He heard Jack’s hysterical laughter beside him.  
Seething; wanting to defy him, even in the smallest way, Will made to stand as tall as he could, arching back to look behind him when…

“Ahmmfff!!!!” the rope yanked painfully upward on his cock and balls, chaffing in an embarrassingly….pleasant... way.

What?! No! This could not be happening! *How* was he getting off on this? Why?!  
Blood was flooding his dick, depriving his mind of oxygen and proper thought. His nerve endings were tingling, vibrating and sparking with electricity,  
He settled in an awkward hunch, barely breathing. He would *not* give Jack the satisfaction of begging.

The crew was beside themselves with laughter. Roaring, howling, cat calling; some even palming themselves a bit.

Jack, ever the master of ceremonies, graced them with a theatrical bow.

“Gents….for my third and final act, I ask that you keep your distance, and perhaps move over to the sidelines for a better...view.” The crew jostled around the deck, awkwardly, and eventually settled on either side of Will. Sparrow approached the blacksmith, positioning himself, once again, between the lad and the mast. He pulled at the hair at the base of Will’s neck, exposing his throat, Turner winced and squirmed as he felt the rope tugging, relentlessly at his cock.

“Burns a bit, eh?” Sparrow said with a laugh. “I can imagine that’s getting a bit painful, by the looks of it, lad.” He licked a stripe from Will’s collar bone to his lower jaw.  
“William, have we learned anything yet?” Will shook his head, nearly defeated. The pirate began to sink into a crouch, his mouth level with Turner’s dick. 

Without warning, hands on Will’s ass, he plunged forward, sucking Will’s cock into his mouth, obliterating the lad’s power of speech...or thought. Sparrow laved at the base, sucked and swirled his tongue around the tip. The blacksmith bucked, sending him into a frenzy of convulsive motions, his body and brain at war with instinct, terror, comfort and need for release. 

Jack removed his mouth, slick with spit and pre-cum, and stared up at the blacksmith. 

“Am I getting warmer, love?” He wrapped a hand around the Turner’s length, stroking it languidly.  
Will summoned every fiber of his being to channel any semblance of movement into his hips. And only his hips. Canting upward, with the rest of his body awkwardly still, his lower abdomen quivering as he concentrated, he began to pump into Sparrow’s grip. 

“That’s it lad,” Jack coaxed, “Knew I could train you. Now...focus...or you’re in for a world of hurt, the likes of Davy Jones Locker.” He changed his grip so Will’s cock moved only through his thumb and forefinger, giving Turner less friction for a good minute or two. The lad whimpered, stifling a sob. Jack merely found this encouraging. 

“Can’t have complaints, now, lad,” He drawled, opening his hand, letting the bottom of Will’s dick just graze the surface of his palm. 

Turner’s body was quaking. He was so close. He let go the sounds, faces and gestures of the crew. Let go his aching muscles, the near numbness of his hands. He focused on the rope biting into his body. It wasn’t pain, so much as the *threat* of it. The knot between his cheeks pressed, now...quite pleasurably against his hole; flooding his mind with pleasurable memories. The ropes around his cock hugged his flesh, creating a warming sensation. He left the rest of his body to the wind, focusing solely on Jack.

The Captain saw the shift in Will’s movements, and slowly resumed a full handed grip. He stroked down as Turner bucked up. Both of them quickening. Will’s eyes were clenched shut, his breath ragged. 

After another moment of torment, mingled with heated pleasure, Will began to buck, uncontrollably. Jack’s hand met his every thrust. So close now. Jack tightened his grip, demanding the blacksmith’s attention. Will’s eyes flew open to stare down at the Captain, as though through tunnel-vision.

His heart racing, he felt the neon hot spring tensioning in his belly. Sparks flooding his sight. Jack’s voice broke through the sound of whooshing blood flow in his ears.

“Will, last time I'll ask you, love.”  
“Have…” *stroke*  
“You…” *tug*  
“Learned…” *twist*  
“Your…” *stroke*  
“Lesson…” *tug*  
“Today?........” 

With the final twist, Will’s world collapsed. His body went rigid in a spasm of ecstasy, seeing white. 

He collapsed. Out cold.

\----- LATER THAT NIGHT ------

Will awoke to the smell of incense. He was no longer gagged, nor restrained. In fact he was lying face down in….Jack’s bed?!?!?!

Gingerly, he made to move when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.  
Turning, he saw warm, coal lined eyes, and gold capped teeth smiling back at him.  
He heaved a heavy sigh and settled into the pillows, relieved; comfortable; safe.  
He placed his hand over Jack’s.

“Do you think they suspect anything?” Will whispered.

“Only that you are ….mine….beyond a shadow of a doubt, lad.” Jack leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Will’s lips before continuing.  
“We gave them quite a show with our...theatrics.” He paused to admire the blacksmith. His courageous, talented, creative, wickedly daring, blacksmith. 

“I wasn’t sure how far you would take it,” Will said, cautiously rolling to his side.”I mean, I know we joked about doing it, in….extensive detail…” He felt himself smiling stupidly at the memory. “I just wasn’t sure when, or ...how...you would execute it, even once we’d discussed and negotiated everything last month.”

Jack caressed Will’s side, admiring the taught muscle.  
“Well, Id say you *did* learn a thing or two this afternoon, eh?” He gave Will’s ass a spank, chuckling. 

“Giving you control like that was...exhilarating, Jack.” WIll felt another blush creeping into his cheeks. “I had to trust you so completely, in order to also trust myself.”

Jack made a face, “Nahhhh….don’t get all sappy on me, now, love.” 

“I'm not. I mean it, “ Will nipped at Jack’s earlobe. “Thank you.” 

Sparrow sat up, and peeked over at Will’s back, assessing the damage.  
“Well, dear William. Once you’re on the mend, would you perhaps like to do it….again?”

Will took a deep, cleansing breath, and propped himself up on his elbows, watching Jack with admiration, trust and longing. 

“...Yes,” Will whispered.

Jack leaned down, cradling Will’s chin in his hand.  
“Yes *what* …?” 

Will saw a flash of Jack’s beloved pirate smile as he answered,

“...Yes, Sir.” 

\--FIN--


End file.
